


This Is What He Gets For Being So Cocky

by IvoryRaven



Series: Tomarry/Harrymort one-shots [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Sick Character, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:07:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23406505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IvoryRaven/pseuds/IvoryRaven
Summary: Prompt:After the ritual to bring Voldemort back, his immune system has significantly weakened, making him more susceptible to prone to getting ill.Harry warns him to regularly cast heating charms along with impervius but Voldemort ignores him.Now we’ve got a sick snake man in bed with a high temperature- and Harry has to nurse him back to health.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Voldemort
Series: Tomarry/Harrymort one-shots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1684411
Comments: 8
Kudos: 162
Collections: Corona Challenge





	This Is What He Gets For Being So Cocky

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [de_Trices](https://archiveofourown.org/users/de_Trices/pseuds/de_Trices) in the [CoronaChallenge](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/CoronaChallenge) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> After the ritual to bring Voldemort back, his immune system has significantly weakened, making him more susceptible to prone to getting ill.
> 
> Harry warns him to regularly cast heating charms along with impervius but Voldemort ignores him.
> 
> Now we’ve got a sick snake man in bed with a high temperature- and Harry has to nurse him back to health.

Harry sat cross-legged in an armchair he’d dragged to Voldemort’s bedside. He’d told the man, given him all the warning he needed, but had his lover listened? No. He was the big bad Dark Lord and he didn’t need Harry’s advice.

“Use them,” Harry had begged, wand in hand, but any warming charms Harry cast, Voldemort just bat away.

“I don’t need them,” he’d said, “I’m the Dark Lord. I don’t get sick.”

Well, so much for that.

Lord Voldemort lay in bed, running an extremely high fever and much too weak to be moving around. As well as the rituals had worked to give him a new body, they weren’t perfect. Along with the missing nose, baldness, white skin, and emaciated appearance, Voldemort also had an impaired immune system. If you could call it that. Harry thought it was as much an immune system as a few tattered old rags are a flag.

The lump in the bed stirred, and his lover’s head poked out of the massive pile of blankets Harry had heaped on him.

“Harry?” the Dark Lord croaked.

Harry scooted forward. “Yes, love, I’m here.”

“Harry, I… I don’t feel… well.”

Harry lay his hand on the Dark Lord’s forehead. The man was still burning up. “I know you don’t, love.” He pressed a kiss to the hot skin.

Voldemort made a pained noise and rolled toward Harry.

“Careful,” warned Harry, “or you’ll fall.”

Voldemort made a most un-Dark Lord-ish squeak and tried to sit up.

“Lay down, love, you need to rest so your body can recover,” said Harry. “I’ll get you some food.”

The Dark Lord’s brow creased. “Stay?” he asked in a small voice.

“I’ll be right back,” Harry assured him.

“I’ll come!” 

“You will not. I’ll send Narcissa to watch you,” warned Harry. He wouldn’t really - all the Death Eaters and supporters were under the impression that Voldemort was seeking a powerful artifact. 

The threat seemed to work, though, and Voldemort lay back in bed, his cheeks flushed more than Harry had ever seen before. It was especially jarring to see the spots of reddish pink on Voldemort’s white skin.

Harry went to the kitchen, where he cast a heating charm on a bowl of soup he’d had ready. He carried it back to Voldemort’s room to find the man staring after him.

“I’m back, love,” Harry said, setting the bowl on the bedside table. “I’m going to help you sit up, okay?”

“I can do it myself,” the Dark Lord insisted, straining to pull himself up, but as Harry suspected, it proved difficult and after a few minutes Voldemort put his head back down.

Harry crawled onto the bed, and used pillows to prop up Voldemort’s head. “Your body is using all your energy to fight the sickness,” he explained, kneeling beside Voldemort, holding the bowl of soup. He spooned the warm, liquidy soup into his lover’s mouth, occasionally stopping to caress the man’s arm, or twine their hands together. 

When Voldemort had finished the soup, Harry went to leave the bowl by the sink. When he returned, his lover was asleep in bed. Harry pulled the blankets over him once more, and kissed Voldemort’s cheek. Then, he returned to his seat in the armchair, determined to watch over his lover until the sickness left him.

**Author's Note:**

> This hit hard and I had to write it. I've recently been sick (not the coronavirus, before you ask) and the worst part for is my emotions getting more wacky than they usually are. So I yearned for my partner's company to comfort me and I could not see them at all.


End file.
